


from these emerald waters

by tanyart



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3694430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke asks to keep her little sister safe; here are five little scenes to depict it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from these emerald waters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [signalbeam](https://archiveofourown.org/users/signalbeam/gifts).



> Takes place during Dragon Age: Inquisition, specifically about the time Varric mentions Hawke asking Aveline to smuggle Bethany away from Orlais. I don't doubt for a second was a team effort from all the DA2 companions though, heh. 
> 
> Title of the fic comes from the Chant of Light, Andraste 14:11.

The letter came in the midst of nightmares, darkspawn whispers and demonic mumbles in the back of Bethany’s mind.  When she woke, it was night and there was the letter at her bedside, left by one of the Grey Warden messengers, just retreating from the barracks with a flickering candle.

She lingered in bed, unhappy and uneasy—but since when had _that_ been unusual?  Bethany had been unhappy the moment she became a Grey Warden, and as for uneasy… _well_.  Darkspawn induced nightmares should be plenty enough reason, but the past few nights had been louder than normal, often leaving Bethany with a headache in the aftermath.  She shut her eyes, only for a moment, and then sat up.  There was no going back to sleep now, and the letter wasn’t going to read itself.

She lit a candle, hand passing over the wick as her magic did the rest.  There were only a handful of people who could have possibly sent her a letter.  Bethany ventured a silent guess in her mind, opened the envelope, and made a little noise that was too soft to be called triumphant when she had guessed right.

“Oh, Maker,” Bethany muttered, gazing at the familiar handwriting.  “What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into now, dear sister.”

And she was, as it turned out, surprised to find that it was not her sister who was in trouble but herself.

 

* * *

 

 

“-as if I was just some hapless thing to be shuffled around!” Bethany seethed over the small campfire, where she had been seething for the past half hour.

There were twigs and leaves in her hair, but Merrill generally regarded that as the very essence of traveling through forested areas far away from any sort of city.  She did not exactly say it out loud though, since Bethany’s temper had not been the best since she started hearing the false Calling. 

Once, Merrill had tried to ask what was the Calling like.  She had gotten silence as an answer, and she didn’t try asking again.  

“I’m sure Hawke just wants you safe,” Merrill said, to which Bethany’s head snapped up from its slumped position.

“Oh, I _know_ she wants me safe.  Since when does she not?” Bethany said, sighing in exasperation.  She glanced at Merrill, expression not softening the least bit.  “It’s that she dragged _you_ into this.  You and everyone else.”

“Me? Well, I wouldn’t call it _dragging_.  She asked, and I said yes,” Merrill smiled.  “Anything for Hawke, really.”

Bethany’s face fell, just the slightest, and Merrill stared, puzzled. 

“I mean, maybe not _anything_.  Like that time Hawke told me to drink the Hanged Man’s special?  If I had known first, I wouldn’t have done it.”  Merrill looked down at her hands, folded in her lap.  She gave them a squeeze and looked back up at Bethany.  “But if Hawke asks me to keep you safe?  That’s an easy answer.  Of course I’ll do it!  Even if Hawke _didn’t_ ask me.”

There was a little snort from Bethany, though something about the sound and the silence after hinted that Merrill didn’t quite say the right thing again.    

“It’s awful, the Calling,” Bethany said, head dipping back into the fold of her arms.  “I know it isn’t _real_ , but it’s still there in my mind.  Just... _whispers_. Telling me that it’s time. Worse than demons, I think.”  She glanced at Merrill with a small grudging smile.  “I’m glad you’re with me.”

The way she said the words made Merrill a little sad, as if Bethany was sincere but still not too happy about it.  Not that Merrill could blame her. 

She leaned over, reaching out to grasp Bethany’s shoulder and give it a little shake.

“I’m glad too.  If there’s anything I can-”

“No, nothing.  Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

The battle was brutal, but short.  Aveline made quick work of the bandit’s leader and watched as the others ran off, injured but at least away from Merrill and Bethany’s collective magical blasts of pure force. 

“Well, there are worse ways to meet,” Aveline said, sheathing her sword. 

“There are?” Bethany said dubiously. 

“When we first met, for instance.” Aveline shrugged, and turned too late to see Bethany’s expression of growing horror.  Aveline flinched, remembering just _how_ bad their first meeting had been.  “Damn. That’s what I get for trying to lighten the mood.  Where’s Hawke when you need her awful sense of humor.”

Much to Aveline’s relief, Bethany _did_ chuckle at that.  Merrill glanced between them, confused, but the gears eventually turned and Merrill’s eyes grew wide in understanding.  Aveline didn’t remember if she or Hawke had ever told Merrill the specifics of their first encounter, but then again they were all friends with Varric, weren’t they?  Varric would have no doubt spun a story about it., or at the very least gave Merrill a concise version to avoid any awkward questions. 

“Yes, I miss Hawke too.  Even her jokes,” Merrill said, but all the agility in the world would not have been able to dodge the hug she gave Aveline.  “And you.  I missed you too!”

For a tiny elf, her arms were very strong.  After getting her breath in, Aveline returned the embrace and managed to match Merrill’s quickness by pulling Bethany into the fray.

“Glad I decided to circle the rendezvous point,” she said, clapping Bethany’s shoulder and frowned, noting the tired slope of Bethany’s back, shoulder dropping from the weight of her hand.  Aveline shot her a reassuring smile. “Not too far to the harbor now.  I have a ship waiting for you.  Awful captain. Very disreputable.”

Bethany’s eyes lit up and she laughed, though Merrill frowned, opening her mouth in defense.

“That’s not very nice to Isabela! I think she a great captain and Bethany should be fine with- _oh!_ Oh, you were only giving her shit, I see.”

 _Giving her shit_.  That was a new one.  Aveline bit back a laugh.  “It’s been a while, Merrill, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, I miss hearing you and Isabela enjoy yourselves by saying mean things to each other.”

Aveline sighed, shouldering back on her shield.  “You’re in luck, you will be hearing it soon enough.”

 

* * *

 

 

The thing about sailing _away_ from Orlais was that it was terribly unspecific, but maybe that was how Hawke meant it to be.  It was a direction Isabela could work with, no problem.  Shit was going down there anyway and if there was anything Isabela had enough of, it was shit going down. Kirkwall had been enough fuckery for a lifetime. 

But today was brilliant—good weather, great wind.  _Gorgeous_.  They were sailing well enough on the not-quite-open sea, still near the coast on account of needing to drop Merrill off somewhere safe where she could return to Kirkwall. Merrill, who was currently having the time of her life exploring Isabela’s ship.

“Kitten, if you get stuck up in the ropes, I swear I’ll ban you from climbing,” Isabela called.

“I will _not_!” came an indignant reply, followed by what definitely did not sound like ropes creaking and straining under an elf-sized weight.

Isabela shook her head, walking up to Aveline, who had been observing the ship’s going-ons.  She wasn’t quite as enthusiastic or adventurous as Merrill, but the quiet interest was another kind of compliment in and of itself.

“Your crew is well-disciplined.  Rude and very dirty, but disciplined,” Aveline said, sounding impressed.

“Yeah, well, being in the middle of the ocean on a floating construct made from wood will do wonders for following orders and working together.”

“Ah, fear and mortal peril.  Some of my guards could have used that for discipline.”

Isabela scoffed.  “What, your broad shoulders and sharp jaw weren’t scary enough?”

“ _Clearly_ ,” Aveline said, glaring good-naturedly.  She shifted her stance, new sea legs surprisingly quick to adjust to the gentle rolling floor of the ship.  “Captain.”

“Ooh, I’ve been waiting a while to hear you say that.”

The corner of Aveline’s mouth went up.  “Now that I’m actually on your ship, I feel it’s deserved,” she said, nodding, and walked off to examine more of the deck.

It was, to Isabela’s realization, on purpose.  Bethany had poked her head from below deck, looking a little better than she had since Isabela first took her onboard.  She at least looked halfway rested.

And, being the gracious host that she was, Isabela approached her, arm out to help haul Bethany up.  Bethany took it without hesitation, breathing in the fresh salt air like most people do after being below deck for a while.

“How you feeling, darling?” Isabela asked.

“Much better than last time I took a ship.  We were kept in a hold for the whole voyage,” Bethany replied, wrinkling her nose at the memory.

“Well, if that doesn’t set the bar low, I don’t know what will,” Isabela grinned.  “But, actually, I was really asking—how are you _feeling_?  Headache still there?”

“Oh, it’s better,” Bethany said, and sounded surprised that she must have meant it.  “I still hear the, um, Calling.  But it’s quieter now.  I can sleep, at least.”

“Great!  Now I can finally offer you some proper grog.”

“Oh, Maker.  No thank you.  I’ve seen the things it does to your sailors,” Bethany said, recoiling as Isabela laughed.  She smiled, gaze flitting down to her boots before going back up to Isabela.  “And, this might be late, but thank you.  For coming all this way and letting me onboard.  I know my sister asked you, and I know I haven’t been the most… gracious, but-” she paused, seemingly at a bashful loss, and shook her head, “Thank you.”

Isabela blinked, confused as to why Bethany appeared so apologetic.  She took a moment to gather her thoughts, and noticed Bethany’s line of sight towards Aveline, walking on deck, and Merrill, hanging from the ship’s rigging.  Her furrowed brow, the why she had mentioned Hawke.  Isabela let out a huff.

“Oh, sweetness, is that what you were worried about?” she began, slinging her arm around Bethany’s shoulders to pull her closer.  “We were happy to help.  _Determined_.  What, you thought we would have left you to disappear with the Grey Wardens?  Hawke would _never_.”

Bethany’s cheeks colored, and she shook her head.  “No!  But, well… I hadn’t thought all of you would—“

“You can’t begrudge us for wanting to see each other again, you included.”

 Bethany’s face turned even redder, but she had lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, so my peril was just an excuse for all of your to get together for a pleasure cruise?”

“Exactly!” Isabela said, letting Bethany go.  “Now I have some work to do.  Go check on Aveline and Merrill, make sure they don’t break my ship.”

She gave Bethany a friendly push, right direction and everything. 

 

* * *

 

 

The Calling had stopped weeks ago, before they had even reached the port.  Isabela had left soon after along with Merrill.  And it was only Bethany and Aveline who stayed, lying low in the tavern, waiting for her sister’s letters or even a missive from Varric, who seemed to be keeping busy with the new Inquisition following. 

Bethany could sense Aveline’s restlessness, see it in the way she wrote to Donnel or in the way she paced around the small harbor town.  Eventually, Bethany knew Aveline would return back to her home and husband, and there was nothing to do for it. 

So it was strange, that first knock on the door.  It certainly wasn’t Aveline’s knock, or anyone Bethany would have expected.

She grabbed her staff, the magic ready beneath her hands, and her mind was clear, refreshed after hearing the Calling for so long.

 “Bethany?  You in there?  You safe?”

Bethany gripped her staff even tighter, a little wave of anger and exasperation rushing over her.

“Of course I’m _safe_ ,” she said, and yanked open the door to finally crush her sister with a hug.  


End file.
